Slipping Halo
by TiKadie
Summary: Oneshot. Draco runs. Songfic to the Noose by A Perfect Circle.


Disclaimer: I don't own any characters or settings.

The lyrics are from The Noose by A Perfect Circle, and they're acting as Draco's concious talking to him.

Summary: Draco is a jackass, but not a murderer. He had killed in battle and the guilt is taking over him... Songfic, theNoose by A Perfect Circle.

* * *

Overall bastard that Draco Malfoy was, he was not a murderer. 

In the chaotic grip of battle, he could pretend he was. He could act so well even he believed it; he had done so all his life.

He could even make himself kill.

That's what he told himself, at least.

But after the first battle, his first kill, he fled.

Draco Malfoy was an asshole, a weak and vain bastard, but not a murderer.

In the thick gore and crashing sound of war, few saw him run. After fleeing through wood and city alike for miles and miles, he took refuge in the most remote, sleazy wizarding motel he could find. He sighed and settled down on the lumpy matress gingerly, aristocratic heritage screaming at him not to sit on the filthy, stained sheets. He sighed again and stood. He examined his scratched and bloody face in the spotted, streaked, and dirty mirror.

_"So glad to see you have overcome them,  
__Completely silent now.  
__With heaven's help, you cast your demons out..."_

He smiled at the words of his concious. It was true. He was no longer a Death Eater, and he never would be again. The mark on him meant nothing. He couldn't kill again, not with the memory of those familiar soft brown eyes, widened in terror, etched into brain. Even his fear of the Dark Lord couldn't make him do it again.

He smiled. He was free. He could practically place a halo on his head; he was never going to go back to that life, to Voldemort, he -

_"And not to pull your halo down,  
__around your neck and tug you off your cloud..._

_But I'm more than just a little curious how you're planning to go about making your amends..."_

Ammends. He froze in wiping the blood off his pale skin. He dropped the ragged and now crimson towel he had been using. Amends?

He stared into his own mercury orbs, seeing his own determination. He could amend this. He would change sides, he would convince Potter and Dumbledore that he wasn't a spy. He could work for them, help them.

He left the room, grabbing his wand from the nightstand.

Again he was running, the opposite way that he came... The direction of Hogwarts, where the Light worked and plotted.

_"To the dead."_

In the empty wizarding street, he choked. He had _killed_. He couldn't bring her back. How could he amend that? How? He fell against the stone wall helplessly, falling slowly to the grimy cobblestone ground.

_He had killed_.

"_Recall the deeds as if  
__They'll all someone else's  
__atrocious stories..."_

He took deep breaths and stood. Numb all over, he continued to walk. In his head, he repeatedly watched her fall in his head, watched her arc elegantly to the ground. But it wasn't him doing it; it couldn't be. This was someone else's story; he was Draco Malfoy, spoiled little rich boy who never had to dirty his hands, let alone kill... Spoiled little rich boy, but not a _murderer_...

Working on autopilot, Draco continued to head for Hogwarts. He felt weak. Continuously he fell against trees, leaned on them a moment for support before continuing. He tripped often. He wondered what Potter would say, his enemy lying on the doorstep begging for forgiveness - begging to make amends.

_""Now you stand reborn before us all.  
__So glad to see you well...""_

He laughed at the mental image of Potter's sarcastic face as he imagined himself explaining that he didn't want to be a Death Eater anymore, that he was done, he wasn't going to kill again and he was so sorry... that he had his halo now.

"_"And not to pull your halo down,  
__around your neck and tug you to the ground,  
__but I'm more than just a little curious  
how you're planning to go about making your amends..._

_... to the dead?""_

He pictured the heavy oak doors closing behind him as they took him, questioned him, locked him away, whatever is was the Light Side would do to prisoners of war. He pictured Harry watching him with hate and malice. It was all Draco could expect of him, good as he knew Potter was.

After all, he had killed his best friend.

He tripped again, falling as the thought seemed to clench around his brain and make him forget how to breathe and how to walk. His head smashed against a rock, but he hardly realized even as it bled freely.

_He killed her_.

"_With your halo slipping down..."_

He ran again, trying to run away from the thought and the memory of her falling, falling, over and over, tried to run from the Death Eaters, tried to run from Potter... If only he could get away, everything would be alright...

But there was nowhere to run.

There was no point in trying to make amends, no point in trying to get forgiveness. He didn't deserve it anyway. He had killed; he had killed someone who didn't deserve it. He didn't have to: he could've refused the Dark Mark. But he didn't. And now he was a murderer. The Light side would never want anything to do with someone who had killed one of their own.

He might as well crawl back to the Dark Lord. He would be punished for running, but Voldemort would kill him eventually, wouldn't he? Then it would be over.

The Light Side would be too good for that, wouldn't it? They would make him live. They would make him live with the guilt and the pain and the fear...

And the memory of her falling, falling, falling...

He fell against another tree, sobbing. He pushed off and kept running again, running and sobbing at once, the tears streaming down his color-drained face. He could see Hogwarts in the distance, the half-moon illuminating its spires and towers.

"Y_our halo's slipping down..."_

He shouldn't have to try. He could turn around and go back and get his punishment. He couldn't be part of the _Light_. He couldn't fight his parents, just as he couldn't fight the Dark Lord...

"_Your halo slipping down,  
__your halo slipping down...  
__(just how you're planning to go about making your amends...)"_

He ran faster, ran like the wind up the the Hogwarts large oak doors. His resolve was slipping...

"_Your halo slipping down...  
__(just how you're planning to go about making your ammends..."_

He should go back, run back to the Dark Side where worthless, evil people like him belonged.

He stood in front of the door, indecisive, guilty, and bloody. He He imagined it was _her_ blood, not his, and the sobs choked him...

"_Your halo slipping down (how you'e planning to go about)  
__to choke you now_."

With a dull thud, Draco Malfoy, Death Eater and murderer, fell down the stone steps unconcious.

* * *

So. I technically could continue this if I wanted, but I probably won't. Unless someone thinks its so amazing it has to be continued... But uh... I kind of doubt that. 

Feed back would be AMAZING. I thought it was okay, but if you hated it, please tell me _why, _ect, ect. Review if you liked it too!

Unbetaed, had a headache so I didn't edit it myself either. Sorry for typos/spelling/grammer. Some runons were meant to be runons, though, just so you know.

PLEASE REVIEW!

note about who he killed: It's Hermione. He's not in love with her; he doesn't like her. He just knows she didn't deserve to be killed.


End file.
